New Story
by 4fanci
Summary: Hermione Granger writes the stories. Draco Malfoy reads them. COMPLETE
1. Chapter One

_This is one of those stories that wrote itself. I wasn't planning to write it at all and assured my family that I was done with fan fiction. Oh, well. I hope that you enjoy reading it! Thanks to JK Rowling for her creations._

New Story

It was the always the same. The same old story.

If you read the Prophet closely you might notice the recurring themes: the rich despising the poor, the privileged abusing the underprivileged, the Purebloods alienating the Muggleborn. The stories began innocently enough. But the moment the evidence pointed toward bias, prejudice, or abuse, that's when Hermione Granger saw red. That was when she determined to write a new story.

It doesn't take a great stretch of the imagination to see why she chose this particular vocation. After all, writing came easily to Hermione Granger. Goodness knows, she had spent years perfecting the art of penning scrolls measured in feet for classes at Hogwarts. And she loved to read. She had spent hours in the Hogwarts Library preparing for this very job. Now that she was out of school, she singlehandedly kept Flourish and Blotts in business. The feel of books beneath her fingers, the magic flickering within worn leather jackets, the smell of fresh parchment and ink gave her an internal zest for life. Hermione Granger burned to see justice prevail. She lived and breathed hope for the future. Some people are intimidated by a blank page, but to Hermione Granger, a blank page was the just the beginning. Writing was a natural fit for Hermione Granger; the surprise was that she chose to write fiction.

Her first novel was about house elves, of course. It was based upon fact, stories she gleaned from her time with Kreacher, Dobby, and Nippy. She had to ask Malfoy's permission to interview Nippy. Malfoy owed her a favor after her testimony on his behalf, so she called it in. Malfoy hated granting her this favor. He hated that she made friends with his house elves. He hated that she knew stories he didn't about his own family. He hated that she might pop out of the kitchens or attics when he least expected it. For Salazar's sake, she was a war heroine. What on earth was she doing in the laundry at Malfoy Manor? Was she actually washing his clothes? It was embarrassing to say the least. She had also approached his Slytherin classmates, but he didn't really want to know if anyone else gave her access to their private lives and house elves. It was better not to know.

Then Malfoy read the book. _Visions of a House Elf,_ by Hermione J Granger. Sparsely written, it managed to capture a poignancy that was entirely unexpected. Malfoy had never bothered much about house elves, silly, annoying creatures. Although he no longer abused them, it hadn't really occurred to him that his own house elves were enslaved. Shocking.

Granger's book told the story of a dream. A dream of a happy home spelled out in the simple language of Giddy, the (fictional) House Elf. In Chapter Two, the dream was brutally shattered by reality. Because the writing was sparse and understated, the pain the gentle creature endured in the book actually brought Draco Malfoy to tears. To tears. Draco Malfoy. For example, he hadn't known that Dobby was dead, a hero fallen while rescuing Granger from Malfoy Manor. He hadn't known that Nippy had witnessed her own mother die by Lucius Malfoy's hand under Voldemort's watchful eye. Of course the names were all changed, but he knew. He knew that most of these atrocities happened in his own family home. It was pure genius that Granger managed to portray the simple story of the House Elf in such vivid colors that the master of the house faded away to nothingness. It was as if Granger became Giddy the House Elf and spoke her language. The implied darkness and pain became more powerful than if Granger had preached or waxed sentimental. Well, he always knew Hermione Granger was a genius. He was just surprised that her novel completely avoided S.P.E.W.

He freed his elves immediately.

The second book by Hermione Granger was by contrast, more cerebral. It was about the Centaurs living in the Forbidden Forest. This time Granger asked Malfoy for access to his library at the Manor. Apparently, she had discovered the Malfoy Library while dusting with the house elves. And apparently, the Malfoy Library contained books that were simply not found elsewhere, specifically books on Centaurian Divination and Arithmancy. Occasionally, Malfoy met Granger in his library during her research. They had fascinating debates about relevant topics such as Divination, which Granger despised. Sometimes they had fascinating discussions about irrelevant topics such as the most efficient way to Catalogue One's Library. (Granger had very strong opinions on said topic as did Malfoy.) Granger's new book, _A Centaur's Perspective,_ primarily focused on the misappropriation of land stolen from the Centaurs by the Ministry of Magic. The book was an intellectual achievement for Granger because not only did she bring clarity to the issues of property rights and natural rights of non-humans, she also delved into Astronomy, Divination and Advanced Arithmancy from an intellectually rich, almost spiritual approach. Again, Malfoy was surprised. He knew Granger didn't trust Divination. He didn't think Granger was particularly spiritual, but she seemed to understand the Centaurs' bent. After reading _A Centaur's Perspective_ , Malfoy knew that he would always treat Centaurs with a healthy fear, not to mention an intellectual admiration. He hoped Granger would win awards for her work.

Book number three was a romance, so Malfoy decided not to read it. Frankly, he was embarrassed for Granger. It couldn't be good. He hoped she didn't write about sex. (Did she even know about sex?) Suddenly, it became hugely popular, a best seller, and he was even more determined not to read it. Granger had apparently broken up with Weasley during this time, so she had written the book from a snowy chalet in Switzerland. Malfoy tried to imagine her weeping over her desk as she poured her own personal emotional turmoil into her book. But he couldn't. He couldn't imagine such sappiness from Granger. He could, however, imagine her writing with a quill while sipping hot cocoa and gazing out the window at the Alps.

His mother had finished _Loved for Life_ by Hermione J Granger for her PB society book club and had left the book in the drawing room. So Malfoy picked it up, put it in his pocket, and carried it gingerly to his study. He ignored the disgusting kissing couple on the front cover, but he several times surreptitiously glanced at the back cover. It had a moving photo of the author: Hermione Granger with bouncing curls and a twinkle in her eye. He wished... he wished that she had come to Malfoy Manor to research romantic witchery or even just to argue with him about the ridiculousness of writing a romance. What attractions did a Swiss chalet have over Malfoy Manor? Granger was far away, unlikely to ever return, but her stupid book was everywhere. It was on the corner of his desk, at least.

He eventually read it. When he reluctantly opened to the first page, he was again surprised. It wasn't a romance as much as a mystery. A page-turner. It wasn't until he was half-way through that he realized that the unfolding mystery was actually the love story of Remis Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, under different names, of course. And he, who despised werewolves with a passion, now felt sympathy toward the man's predicament. Here was a decent man, fighting his love for a beautiful woman so the wolf within would never cause her harm. And the woman, the one solving the mystery, was doing everything she could to fight his rejection, to hold him close. Malfoy marveled that _her_ love was greater than _his_ beastliness. _Her_ love eventually overcame _his_ fear. It was a powerful story, Malfoy thought, even though he still couldn't help but shudder to think that anyone might _marry_ a werewolf. The name _Fenrir Greyback_ had left a horrid taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach that would last a lifetime at least.

The sequel _Family Forever_ by Hermione J Granger followed soon after. Malfoy didn't hesitate this time. He bought the book. He felt he could tolerate a romance if it was tucked into a mystery as the first book had been. In _Family Forever_ , he learned not only about werewolf equal rights and the need for more wolfsbane on the market, but also about family life. The two main characters had married and continued to solve mysteries together. They started a family. They had unique difficulties to overcome that had to do with full moons, but their togetherness fascinated Malfoy. He hadn't ever witnessed a relationship like this in real life and wondered if it truly existed. Was this really how Lupin and Tonks had treated each other? Or was the relationship based on someone else Granger knew? There was equality and acceptance and trust, an exchange of ideas, confidence in one another, a love and affection that Malfoy hadn't ever seen at the Manor. He didn't know if it was a real thing, but he recognized that this was Granger's ideal. She longed for this kind of relationship. He hoped she would find it.

There was a period of time when Hermione Granger did not produce a book. After awhile, Malfoy grew somewhat alarmed. He hoped she was not in any trouble. So he sent her an owl to tell her how much he had enjoyed her books and to inquire if she had any new ones in the works. She replied that she, in fact, did. He asked her to tea. She came with her most recent manuscript and asked him to read it. Malfoy was stunned. That she would think so well of his opinion moved him deeply. He told her that he would read it that night. They drank tea. They visited the Library for old time's sake. They laughed together. Then Granger departed. And Malfoy opened her manuscript.

 _Horror of horrors. Of horrors._

 _And more horrors._

It was the story of Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter Two

New Story: Chapter Two

He was livid.

He was furious.

He ignored her owls.

He blocked the floo.

He instructed the elves not to answer the door.

He felt betrayed and knew he shouldn't respond until his temper had cooled. And right now, the library -her favorite room in the Manor- was in shambles, shredded by his explosive temper.

But she persisted. Every three days, she tried to reach him.

It took a month before he opened his door to her. His mask of cold superiority was in place, his anger carefully controlled. She looked amused at his haughty demeanor. He did not invite her in.

"You hated it."

He did not bother to reply to such an obvious statement.

"Was it offensive?" she asked curiously.

He snorted.

"I guess I'll have to revise it. I thought I had researched Pureblood conventions and etiquette thoroughly."

"No."

" _No_?" Her eyebrow rose.

"No one can read this. Ever."

"It's an important story, one that should be told." Her temper flared.

"It's an invasion of privacy."

"Well, the names have been changed."

Malfoy gave a caustic laugh. "You think people aren't going to see through a name change? I don't want pity. I don't want anyone thinking that they understand anything about me."

"What do you mean _you_?"

"That character is me."

"No, it really isn't," she chuckled.

"Granger, exactly how many student Death Eaters have there been at Hogwarts? How many _cried_ in the bathroom before being attacked by a fellow student using _Sectumsempra_ no less? You put me and my emotions on display for all your readers to see." His eyes narrowed and his tone was biting. He continued, "I gave you access to my home, my elves, my library, and this is the consequence. A pathetic tale about the misunderstood Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione Granger looked faint.

"What?"

She hesitated before admitting, "You're right. I should take that chapter out."

"Of course I'm right."

"Well, you're wrong too." At Malfoy's look of incredulity, Granger hurried to say, "The book is based on Regulus Black. He was also a student Death Eater who turned against Voldemort and died destroying one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

Malfoy looked skeptical.

"Didn't you know about him? He's your relative."

Malfoy shook his head. He knew the name, of course, but not the story.

"Do you see why the story should be told?"

"You didn't tell _his_ story, you told _mine_."

"I...I...No, I..." _Granger at a loss for words?_ Malfoy smirked.

"So, tell me, did you use legilimency?"

"What? Of course I didn't. No, this story is about Black, not you, Malfoy, I promise."

"Excuse me if I don't believe you. How did you know about my Potions Lab? My own mother doesn't know about it."

"What Potions Lab?"

"Here in the Manor. It's my hobby. Same as your main character's hobby, oddly enough."

"Coincidence, Malfoy," but she looked more startled than defiant.

"And your character stays home, is a recluse. He avoids people."

"Yes..."

Malfoy stared intently at her until she put two and two together.

He leaned forward and said quietly, "I've never told a soul about how I got the Dark Mark."

"I used my imagination..." she began, but her voice trailed off as she gazed at Malfoy with wide eyes. Sadness filled her brown eyes as she realized that _her_ imagination was _his_ truth.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy," she began again, but she blinked and her words halted suddenly.

His anger receded. Granger looked like she was in shock. Was she going to faint? She stared at Malfoy like she had never seen him before and began to back away from the open door. What was the matter with her? Did she suddenly remember that he had the Dark Mark on his forearm? He followed her outside as she turned to descend the steps and hurriedly followed the path to the gates. In an attempt to detain her, he ventured, "Why not write about yourself?"

"What?" She was clearly flustered.

"Everyone wants to know about Hermione Granger, war heroine, and what it was like growing up Muggle. How you became friends with Potter. All that garbage."

"I write novels. To avoid putting a real person in my book."

" _Really."_

"At least, that's my intent."

"So write a novel. About a Muggleborn witch. I guarantee it will sell."

Granger shook her head and waved her hand as she apparated away.

She forgot her manuscript.

Malfoy didn't see her again for another month. So he re-read the Regulus Black manuscript four times.

The first time angered him because he once again recognized himself in the story. He saw himself as the main character, and he didn't much like what he saw, horrid little bully, sniveling with fear when life turned sour. Voldemort sour.

The second time, he realized that she had gone to great pains to describe someone other than him. No Manor was mentioned, no trademark blond hair, no socialite parents, politics, or wealth-flaunting. He followed Regulus Black's story with greater interest. The heroic death was a very nice touch.

The third time through, he recognized himself again. He saw himself clearly through her eyes. It wasn't a bad picture if you could handle a tortured soul.

The fourth time, he saw Hermione Granger. He recognized her viewpoint from the Gryffindor side of the Hogwarts dining hall. He recognized that she had witnessed Malfoy's fear, his indecision, his own personal agony during her own personal torture session with Bellatrix LeStrange. How could she possibly have seen him so clearly? During a bout of torture, no less. It couldn't simply be imagination. _Could it be that she...knew him?_

In the end, he decided that she cared for her sick Pureblooded character just the same as she cared for her House Elves and Centaurs. She was simply a genius on fire for justice and wanted everyone to better understand each other. It had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy.

The story grew on him. Eventually, he thought he could talk about it once again, so he owled Granger to invite her to tea. She replied promptly and set a convenient date for tea at the Manor.

* * *

Granger came lugging another manuscript. She was invited into the parlor this time.

"Here," she said resolutely. "Try this one."

Malfoy looked at her skeptically. He raised his brow.

"It's the story of a Muggleborn witch. Much more difficult to write than I thought it would be."

"Am I in it?"

"Of course not."

"Then I won't have a problem with it."

Granger took a deep breath. "I need your help."

Malfoy was still.

Granger began again. "Well, you see, when I write, I look at my subject with fresh eyes. I try to understand them."

He knew that about her and felt a warmth rush through him when she looked at him.

"But I don't have fresh eyes for this subject. I'm too close to write objectively."

 _She wrote objectively?_ He questioned the veracity of that statement, forgetting all about her scholarly approach to the Centaurs.

"So, I was wondering if you would help me."

He fought the blush that colored his cheeks and looked away, missing the matching blush on her face entirely. Letting her use the library was one thing, but ...

"What kind of help?"

"Well, first, read the draft and then we can talk about my ideas."

"You have more than one idea?"

She laughed.

"Do you really never leave the Manor, Malfoy?"

"Of course I do."

"For..."

"I fly regularly and take strolls in the park."

"The park at Malfoy Manor."

He shrugged.

"Would you come to my place for tea next time?"

He looked at her. There was that dratted warm feeling again.

"Read this and we'll talk about it at my place. Then I'll tell you my ideas."

"Where do you live?"

"I'm living with my parents right now. Heathgate, Hampstead."

Malfoy was silent.

Granger's lips twitched. "Well, let me know. I can come here if it's too much."

He looked at her and saw an accomplished, confident witch, a war hero, brilliant thinker, someone capable of moving comfortably between two worlds. She was offering to share her world with him. He wasn't sure that he was ready.

"I'll think about it," he said. Granger beamed.

Later on, he realized that Granger was his friend. Perhaps his only friend.

He opened the new manuscript. It was a fascinating tale. He was confused by all the Muggle references, but he was entranced by the Muggle family she described. The parents were loving, not controlling. They were open-minded, not steeped in tradition. They had conversations with one another and discussed the pros and cons of sending their child to Hogwarts. The child was consulted. Malfoy was jealous of this Muggle family. He wanted his children, well, assuming he ever had children, to enjoy a family like this.

Were all Muggle families like this? _No,_ he reasoned. The other Muggle child in the book had a family who made him live in the cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't imagine treating your own child as if he were a house elf. So all Muggle families were not the same.

The verbal abuse the Muggleborn witch endured at Hogwarts made him almost weep with shame. But the antics of the children made him chuckle. This was a chidren's book, he realized.

He also realized that Malfoy should be in the story. For dramatic conflict and all that.

Four chapters later, he realized that as the main character grew older, he again wanted Malfoy to be in the story. To make amends.

In his opinion, the conclusion left much to be desired. Perhaps it was an unfinished work. The main character graduated from Hogwarts and ventured out into the workforce, only to be denied the sorts of positions reserved for Purebloods. The main character considered herself fortunate to get a job as a low level assistant at the Ministry.

That wasn't really a happy ending. He was disappointed, hoping for a happy ending for the witch.

And then it hit him.

He wanted to be Granger's happy ending.


	3. Chapter Three

New Story: Chapter Three

"You try, Malfoy."

He flicked the switch several times. And then several more just for fun. The lights flickered on and off. On and off. On and off. Instead of moving away, Granger lifted her eyes to his and murmured, "Malfoy, my parents are in love with you."

A faint smile come to his lips.

"You brought flowers for my mum. And you told my dad that I'm beautiful."

"Beautiful _inside_. I said you had a captivating _inner_ beauty. It's different."

Granger had a soft, dewy-eyed look that made him think she might want to argue. Either that or she might want to be kissed.

"You told them I'm brilliant."

"That's not news. Everyone knows that."

"And you like my novels because I surprise you with fresh ways of looking at the world."

"Mmmhmm. You _continually_ surprise me."

Her lips parted, and she looked like she thought kiss number two should happen right about now. But he was going to make her wait.

"Malfoy, those are the nicest compliments I've ever had."

"I'm making up for all the terrible things I said to you back at Hogwarts."

"Hmmm," she gazed at him thoughtfully and then turned toward her desk. On her desk might be a Muggle contraption, but he wasn't sure. There were also quills and parchment; she must write near that window so she could see the tree outside. He hoped she would show him the Muggle contraption.

"Come sit by me, Malfoy. I'd like to discuss my book. Can I share my ideas?"

Malfoy sat down in the comfortable arm chair by the other window. This was her reading chair, he knew. Somewhere about the house was probably a cat that would curl up on her lap. Just like in the book about the Mary, the Muggleborn witch. Granger sat at her desk, but faced her chair toward Malfoy. The room was so small that their knees almost touched.

"I have an idea too," he offered.

"Really?" she looked absolutely thrilled. He frowned. She shouldn't be quite so happy about it.

"It's not that important," he tried to deflect, although when he thought about it, he was planning to suggest a major change. She would not be happy about his interference. "You go first."

"Well, already today, you've helped me tremendously, Malfoy. I can write easily about my first glimpses of magic and the thrill experiencing Diagon Alley and Hogwarts for the very first time. But writing about the Muggle world is harder. You are helping me see the Muggle world through your eyes."

"And how exactly do I do that?"

"Well, if I were to write in a Muggle book that I entered the room and turned on the lights, Muggles would know what I meant. It wouldn't need to be described. But for witches and wizards who haven't seen the Muggle world, I might need to say... "I placed my hand on the wall and flicked the switch upwards to fill the room with light."

"You might need even more description," Malfoy said thoughtfully. "That sounds a bit like flicking your wand to open the drapes. You should specify the kind of light."

"Oh, very good. I could flip the switch to turn on a glaring solitary bulb or a sparkling chandelier or a bright neon sign or a flashing strobe or a soft lamp in the corner of the room."

Malfoy raised his brow. Imagery was certainly no problem for Granger. She literally overflowed with words. No, figuratively. She figuratively overflowed with words. _Wait a minute, was she literal or figurative?_

"See how much you help me?" Granger looked nervous. "So... I'm thinking we need to spend more time together ...so I can show you the Muggle world and observe your reactions. It will help me ... communicate the Muggle world more clearly."

True, he had been confused by Muggle references. But what was now clear to Malfoy was that this witch wanted to spend time with him. Hang the story. He figured that he owed her three kisses now. His lips quirked.

"Fine."

"Really?" Granger looked so relieved. "It's not an imposition?"

Of course it was an imposition. But one that he would rather not forego. He shrugged impassively.

"Thank you, Malfoy. I really appreciate your help. You notice things that are commonplace to me, so it will definitely improve my writing. I'd like to take you to my primary school to see what you think of it. And the movies. And shopping too. Maybe we could meet again this weekend?"

Malfoy had no plans. He nodded.

"Now, tell me your idea."

Malfoy hesitated, not sure that he was brave enough to make his suggestion. Granger waited and then looked down at her hands... _was she sad?_ He leaned forward as if he had a business proposition to negotiate and said coolly, "I want to be in your story."

Granger's jaw dropped.

"You need me," he insisted. "You need Draco Malfoy for conflict, the prat who berated you and bullied you. And later, the repentant guy who wanted to make it up to you. And your last chapter was terrible; it didn't really seem like a proper ending."

"I had trouble with the end, obviously."

"Well, I think I could spice things up. I'd annoy the hell out of your main character, especially in the last chapter."

She was stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He couldn't tell if it was a good thing or bad. Her mind was racing a million different directions. Fortunately, a smile came to her lips.

"Brilliant, Malfoy. Absolutely brilliant. I can picture it. But what if you hate it?"

"I don't think I will," he said thoughtfully.

* * *

When Granger needed to discuss the plot with Malfoy, she now had ample opportunity. She didn't need to send an owl since they saw each other every other day. He was fascinated by the Granger's car, her laptop, the microwave, even the pencil sharpeners at the primary school, and he insisted that she write these things into her story. Granger balked at the idea of wasting an entire paragraph on pencil sharpeners, but Malfoy assured her that it was a mesmerizing read. Movies, on the other hand, would interfere with the plot so were better left out. Granger teased him that he should be a co-author. Malfoy shuddered at the thought.

But today she had something more serious to discuss, and it could be a devastatingly awkward topic. She chose the time and place carefully: during the Granger family picnic. Dr. Granger was planning to drive the family to the countryside and Malfoy had been invited. Packing the picnic basket with her mum, she hoped Malfoy would be softened up by all the delicacies: meat pies, quiche, fruit, cheese and wine. They even packed dessert, which was no small feat, considering the Grangers did not approve of sugar.

And the day went as planned. Sunny, warm, lovely. The conversation was lively in the car. Malfoy was invited to go sailing with the Grangers and camping too. Books, movies, favorite vacation spots were discussed thoroughly. Muggle culture was explained to Malfoy. He contributed to the conversation. Hermione glowed. The Grangers selected the perfect spot to spread their blanket, on a hill overlooking a lovely green scenic valley. When Granger and Malfoy left her parents to hike about a bit, he asked her the question she had been waiting for.

"How's the book?"

"Funny you should ask. I've run into some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind where the characters refuse to behave."

Malfoy laughed.

"I've tried, Malfoy. I re-wrote the last chapter _four_ times, but they refused to follow my lead."

"Your characters have minds of their own?"

"Of course they do. Otherwise, they wouldn't seem real now, would they?"

"So, what's the trouble?"

She turned and looked at him seriously. She honestly didn't know how he would respond. He had asked to be put into the story. She had added several chapters of headache and hilarious drama to end, fleshing out the main character's new job at the Ministry of Magic. But now it was time to wrap it up. And she was stuck. Granger took a deep breath.

"Malfoy, they've fallen in love."

He smiled gently. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all-as long as you are okay with it... wait, no, it is a _terrible_ thing, Malfoy! I wrote _you_ , Draco Malfoy into the story and _you,_ Draco Malfoy, are falling in love with a Muggleborn witch. That could totally ruin your life! Everyone who reads it would know. You would hate that."

"Would I?" He leaned in and whispered, "How did they discover they were in love?"

"They kissed." Her cheeks were flushed. "While she was showing him how the light switch worked in her Muggle home. Every time he turned on the lights, he kissed her. And when he turned the lights off, she kissed him."

Malfoy laughed again. "Now that is not at all believable. What was he doing at her Muggle house?"

"Delivering documents from the Ministry."

"He couldn't send an owl?"

"He wanted to see where she lived."

"So they both knew all along. It wasn't really a surprise."

"No," she whispered. Her eyes were large and traveled over his face, hair hair, his lips.

And then he kissed her.


	4. Chapter Four

_This story would not exist if not for JK Rowling. Thank you, JKR._

New Story: Chapter Four

"A sequel, Malfoy. The story isn't over."

They were breakfasting in the sunshine on a vista overlooking the magnificent Malfoy Manor Gardens. Birds chattered to each other from nearby trees, and Granger noticed a butterfly hovering over the lavish flower garden. It was a lovely morning. Granger sipped her coffee and gave her plate to Nippy, thanking her for the delicious breakfast. She had hoped she might catch a glimpse of the Malfoy peacocks, but so far none had made an appearance.

"What's more to say? It's a great ending." Malfoy was surprised, as usual. He decided he might as well get used to that feeling since he wanted to spend forever with this witch.

"No, Malfoy, don't you see? Their problems are just beginning."

"What problems? They have each other, and they're happy."

"Yes, but where do they live? What kind of life will they lead? Will they get married?"

"Of course, they will."

"Muggles often live together without getting married."

"We aren't Muggles, though, are we?"

"Malfoy! Are we talking about my book?"

"Right. Carry on." He held out his hand to pull her from the breakfast table to the lounge chairs that faced the gardens below.

There were so many things to decide. Malfoy insisted that the couple marry and live at the Manor. Children might follow and they should be brought up in the ancestral home. Granger argued that her character would want to establish a career before starting a family and might also have an issue with living at the Manor. Would she even be received in Pureblood society? Would their potential children be accepted? What would his parents think? Malfoy let her know in no uncertain terms that if she or any future children wished to be received in Pureblood society, they would need to be married. Otherwise, she could expect a shunning. Granger didn't see the logic in that. Wouldn't the main character be shunned anyway for being a Mudblood? And he hadn't answered her earlier question: _What would his parents think?_

"So now we are back to talking about ourselves instead of the book?" he asked curiously.

"No, let's keep it to the book, please. It's easier for me to think objectively."

Malfoy raised his brow and thought carefully before answering her question. "Well, the father is out of the picture. He doesn't count since he's in Azkaban."

"And the mother?"

"The mother thinks this particular Muggleborn witch can do no wrong since she testified at her son's trial on his behalf. Plus, she adores your books."

"Malfoy! We're talking the parents _in the story_." But she was beginning to smile.

"It really doesn't matter, does it? If you want conflict, then by all means, have the parents oppose the relationship so there are more barriers to overcome. What truly matters is how serious your main characters are about each other. Are they just trying the relationship out to see what happens, or is it the real thing that lasts forever?"

Granger turned and gazed into his eyes. She was wearing an adorable wide brimmed hat that she had transfigured from a napkin. "It's the real thing. And I hope it lasts forever."

He smiled back at her. "If we know that, then why wait to get married? We should start forever now."

" _We? Now?"_ she squeaked.

"Let's get married, Granger." And Malfoy smoothly moved from his lounge chair to kneel before hers. He placed her coffee cup on the table and reached out for her hands, "Will you, Hermione Granger, marry me, Draco Malfoy? Soon? I would be very happy if you would."

His gaze was intense, but also wary because he still didn't really know if she liked him or his family enough to want to marry him. He was ready to have his proposal flung in his face. Instead, Granger flung herself into his arms. And she began to cry.

"I thought... I thought..." she blubbered, "that I had fallen in love with ... my imaginary Regulus Black ... but it was you ... all along. And then you were so angry... you hated the story... I can't believe ...you love me anyway."

"Course I do, Granger. You are the most beautiful, brilliant, and talented witch I've ever known...not to mention, I like you."

Granger laughed through her tears. "You _like_ me?"

"So, is that a _yes?_ " He held his breath.

"Yes, it's a _yes_ , Malfoy!... I _love_ you, Draco Malfoy! ...And my parents love you. Although, they might be surprised that we are talking about marriage already... I'm rather surprised myself," she sniffed doubtfully. "Do you like me enough to marry me, Malfoy?"

"I do. I love you. And I want to marry you. To live a lifetime with you." He removed her hat so he could hold her closely. He breathed into her hair. He lightly stroked her back and tugged on her curls. "My feelings have changed toward the Regulus Black story, you know," he admitted. "It's excellent writing. You're a masterful story teller. With a few alterations, I might feel better about you publishing it."

"Really?" she pulled away to look at him with shining eyes. "What alterations?"

"Well, for one, he should get the girl," Malfoy teased. She scooted away and made room for him in the lounge chair beside her.

"There is no girl in that story, Malfoy. And he dies in the end."

"I know, but he deserves some happiness first."

"That's all the more tragic," Granger breathed. "I don't know if I could do that to him."

"You could give him a happy ending like you did for Lupin and Tonks."

She gasped. "How did you know my mysteries were based on Professor Lupin and Tonks?"

"Granger. Anyone can see through the name change. I told you that."

"Then Malfoy, everyone will know that it's you in the story about Mary the Muggleborn witch. You'd hate that!"

"And everyone will know that Mary is you. Especially, after I marry you. Wait, did you give her bushy hair?"

Granger ignored that comment. "And you are okay with everyone knowing it's you in my book?" she persisted.

"Every word about me is true. Part of my penance is proving to others that I've changed since Hogwarts."

"You have changed, Malfoy. I like you now. Although I hate to admit, you were a very good-looking prat."

Malfoy smiled somewhat smugly. He leaned forward to kiss her and murmured, "I know."

Not really wanting to encourage his outrageous behavior, she changed the subject. "Malfoy, should Mary's wedding be a Pureblood wedding or a Muggle wedding?"

Malfoy hesitated. He didn't want to push for a Pureblood wedding ceremony and have Granger think that he despised Muggle weddings when he'd never even been to one. But then, Granger had most likely never been to a Pureblood wedding either. She might hate it.

Granger stared, figuring out what he was thinking. She was silent too.

Malfoy held out his hand. "I'll have to show you what a Pureblood wedding is like, and you'll have to show me a Muggle wedding."

"Deal." She took his hand in hers.

"We won't decide until we see the alternatives."

"There's variety in Muggle weddings. No two are alike."

"Really? Pureblood weddings are exactly the same. You see one; you've seen them all."

Granger smiled faintly. She let her eyes drift unseeingly over the lawns and gardens below their vista. The lovely pale blue of the morning sky went unnoticed by the two.

"I think..." an idea trickled through her mind and teased her, "I think the wedding...maybe even the entire book...will be a comedy."

Malfoy frowned. "I don't want people laughing at our marriage, Granger."

"Oh, _ours_ can be quite somber, Malfoy. But it might be fun to have everything go wrong in the story." Her lips began to quirk and her eyes danced.

Malfoy kissed her again. He couldn't quite picture the comedy, but he could trust her to get it right. He gave her some time to let her ideas flutter and settle. When he felt sufficiently warmed by the sun, he picked up her hand and broached a topic that definitely made him nervous.

"What will Potter and Weasley think?"

Granger's grin became positively wicked. "I see some potential conflict in store for our Muggleborn witch. At least three more chapters of fun. Yes, this book will definitely be a comedy."

"As long as I'm still alive to marry you," for which comment then earned Malfoy another kiss. "We should let the book announce our engagement. Saves talking to Potter and Weasley."

"That won't work, Malfoy. They don't read my books."

Malfoy was surprised. Shocked, no less. "You're kidding."

"That's why I love you, Malfoy. Because you like me enough to read my books." Granger gave him a long look and a slow smile. He had to try again to kiss the glow on her face.

Granger pulled away to ask: "Bigger question, Malfoy: Mary's children (the ones she will have down the road) will be half-bloods. Will that be a problem for the children? Will they be raised like Purebloods? Will they be raised to know the Muggle world?"

"Granger, stop. That's got to be Book Three. Are you planning to write a trilogy?"

"No, this time I'm asking for _us_ , Malfoy, I need to see the end result before I commit to the beginning."

"It's too late; you've already said _yes."_ Malfoy smirked. Granger swatted him.

"No, this is important. If we have a family, how will we raise the children?"

" _When_ we start a family, _you_ will decide how the children will be raised."

"That's not fair; we should decide together," she frowned.

"It's one of the reasons why I fell in love with you," Malfoy admitted. Granger looked confused, so he elaborated, "I like how you write about family and I want that for my children."

Her breath caught as she pondered the amazing man before her. He wanted things for his non-existent children? He apparently had thought more about the future than she. _Their future_.

"Well, I promise you will have a say, Malfoy. I'd better not be raising children by myself."

Malfoy laughed. Granger studied the sunlight glinting in his hair and the happiness in his face. Today his eyes were a pale grey and his lips curved into a rather sweet smile. She liked the look.

"Let's shelve the future for the time being. Back to the book: if I write a proposal into the story, what kind of ring will he give her?"

Malfoy's face blanched. _"Ring! I didn't give you a ring!"_

"Don't be silly, Malfoy, I don't care about that. I'm marrying you for your library, not your ring. But ... will you go ring shopping for Mary with me?"

Malfoy stared at her blankly. "You shop for fictitious people?"

"I do. For clothes, of course. And accessories. I even went house hunting once to find the perfect home for my main characters. But I don't actually buy anything. Shop keepers can't stand me. So as thanks, I try to write their shop into the story."

Malfoy bit back a grin. "I could show you the Malfoy rings," he suggested. "Do you think Mary might like an heirloom engagement ring? Goblin crafted?"

"Ohhhhh. Maybe she would. I think she would be very drawn to the history of an antique magical ring. Unless of course, a Pureblood ring might harm a Muggleborn witch?"

"I don't know, actually," he admitted. "Shall we go inside the Manor to see if any bite? And if you don't care for any of them, then we can design our own. We can combine the old with the new."

"We're both."

"And our children will be both."

"But no children for a few years yet," Granger insisted. "We're too young, Malfoy."

"So until the children come, it won't matter where we live. We could travel. For your writing."

"I have a mystery in mind for Professor Lupin and Tonks to solve in Fiji. It would be smart to visit."

"Greece and China have rare magical creatures you might like to study."

"Bulgaria."

Malfoy stiffened. "Why Bulgaria?"

"Isn't that where Hagrid's relatives live? I know it's somewhere in the Ural Mountains, but could be more on the Russian side. I'm very interested in tribal communities, especially those of giants."

Malfoy relaxed. "France and Italy."

"What's in France and Italy?"

"Our honeymoon."

Granger threw her arms around Malfoy and kissed him. "I think I'm beginning to like this new story."

"And the happy ending, of course."

"Yes," she smiled, but couldn't say any more because she was smothered by Malfoy's kisses. Kisses in the warm summer sun.

The End.

* * *

 _This short fic is a nod to Miss Buncle's Book by DE Stevenson that is thankfully back in print. Miss Buncle writes books to earn a little extra money and since she has no imagination, she writes about her neighbors-changing their names, of course. It's a hilarious read, a bit of an inspiration for New Story._


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